


Make You Fly

by esteefee



Series: Flying [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-22
Updated: 2009-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-17 10:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney has a surprise for John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make You Fly

"So, what's the surprise?" John says, and he can tell it's a good one, because Rodney's been singing his way through the explanation, the tones of his voice rising and falling in pure delight and smug self-satisfaction. Even if the words float above John's understanding, it's clear Rodney has discovered something pretty spectacular, so John waits as patiently as he can for the pay-off.

"...found the propulsion system is similar to that of the jumpers, but with these amazing built-in gyroscopic stabilizers and, well, _look_ ," Rodney says and points at the screen, his eyebrows raised in anticipation.

John looks down at the break-out schematic from the Ancient database, translates the two-dimension into three, and feels his jaw drop open.

"It's..." He can't say it.

Rodney bounces beside him. "Yes."

"You found me a—"

"Yup."

"—a friggin'—"

"A personal jet-pack. Yes."

 _For me._ John knows it's for him, knows he was the first person Rodney thought of to tell about it—he's _always_ first—and a crazy warmth floods John's chest. He thanks the petty, evil Pegasus Gods, who for once seem to be looking the other way, because the lab is completely empty except for the two of them, and John is finally going to do it. Right fucking now. He is going to kiss Rodney McKay.

Because Rodney found him a personal jet-pack.

Rodney's eyes are dancing, and he's still bouncing on his toes, obviously waiting for the explosion of glee that's trapped beneath John's breastbone. But instead, John finally makes his move. He leans over Rodney with his intent clear, and has a moment to register a couple of things—the widening of Rodney's eyes, and the way his own pulse is doing a terrified cha-cha in his throat—before he presses his mouth to Rodney's, firmly but carefully, a single kiss that has John's hands shaking so hard he has to clench them tight against it.

He opens his eyes, and—Christ—he hasn't had an attack of nerves like this since the first time he got into a cockpit. It's exactly the same, this sense of everything wrapped in a moment, his years of yearning and work and dogged determination all paying out in the excited brush of Rodney's breath as they pull away from each other.

"You, uh—" Rodney licks his lips.

John's stomach is doing the tilt-a-whirl. He wants to laugh at himself, at the way this is affecting him, because of all the screwed up situations he's ever been in, this would be the one that would turn his guts to water, waiting for Rodney to get past the shock and give him his answer.

"Wow," Rodney says. And then he closes his eyes, tilts up his head, mutely requesting another kiss.

 _Holy crap,_ John thinks, but he's already leaning in again, this time for a deeper kiss, tilting his head to make the perfect seal against Rodney's mouth, which opens under his as if he were just waiting for the chance. John lifts his shaking hands and holds Rodney's face between his palms so he can kiss him harder. Rodney's tongue is a little pushy—not a big surprise, there—but agile, sliding against John's, and the contact makes John immediately go hard.

They both pull back to breathe. Rodney opens his mouth, and John closes his eyes, waiting for it, ears burning in anticipation of whatever Rodney is going to say.

"You—your hands are shaking." Rodney sounds breathlessly surprised, and when John pulls away, he catches one and squeezes John's fist.

"Don't. I—it's flattering, really. Well, not flattering, because I admit that sounds a little insulting, but I'm...purely honored. Really. Not even honored, more—"

Feeling suddenly cold, John pulls his hands away and stuffs them under his armpits. "Honored," he says flatly.

Rodney blinks and licks his lips. "No—not, well, yes, of course, too, but more than that, really. Honored doesn't encompass—" he waves a circle, "—much more to it, honestly, I'm just, completely, well—"

Shutting Rodney up with a kiss seems like the best option at this point, because otherwise John might have to smack him around a little for scaring him. At least the nervous babble has eased John's shaking some, and the way Rodney kisses him back—open-mouthed, with sub-vocal moaning and spastic, grabby hands on John's arms, on his waist—helps even more, until finally John relaxes into it, letting his body sway into Rodney's and grabbing him back.

John loses track of time a little, immersed in Rodney's mouth, in the stroke of his warm tongue and the way Rodney's hands move all over John's back in an irregular pattern, as if Rodney can't help himself. But finally John eases the kisses, slowing them to soft, to barely there between lips and breath, and this time when he pulls away, Rodney's face is pink, his pupils wide and almost swallowing the bright blue.

"So. Not just honored," John says, unable to suppress the slight hint of smugness. "You want this."

Rodney blinks rapidly, and it seems to take him a gratifyingly long time to pull himself together. Once he does though, he says sharply, "Of course. Are you dim?"

"A little. Maybe."

"Because I would think you'd have picked up on any number of cues before now—"

"Is that right?" When had he hooked his finger into the waist of Rodney's pants, anyway? John takes a step back and leans against the lab table. "What cues would those be? The one where you showed me the ring you bought for Katie Brown? Or maybe the way you flirted your ass off with that scientist on Planet Lava—?"

Rodney scowls and raises his finger. "One word. Chaya."

John deflates. "Okay. Yeah, I liked Chaya—"

"That lying little no-good—"

"Don't finish that—"

"—tramp."

"Huh." Chaya _was_ a little bit of a tramp. But then, so is John. Because he wants nothing more right now than to pull Rodney down on top of him and spread his legs for him.

John shivers, and has to reach down and adjust his cock in his pants.

"That better not be for her," Rodney starts dangerously, but John laughs and kisses him again, careless of the beard-burn he'll be sporting tomorrow, careless of the words Rodney puffs into his mouth between kisses, because he's finally done it, he's finally kissing Rodney, and it's making him high.

"Come on," John says when he can pull away again. "Take me to your quarters."

Rodney's smile is radiant, his cheeks pink, eyes gleaming. He says, almost mocking, "But what about your jetpack?"

Looping his arm around Rodney's waist, John pulls him toward the door. "First, I plan on making _you_ fly."

For once, Rodney doesn't even argue.

  


_End._


End file.
